


Ma Vhenan

by Avarii



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Askbox Fic, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avarii/pseuds/Avarii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shots and drabbles that look into the romance of Solas and Taryn Lavellan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Er Isala Halani

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know why I wrote this.

 “Solas, you  _need_  to come see this view,” Taryn spoke from the cliff’s side. The elf looked up at her with her hands in the crevice between the rock and her feet braced against the natrual divets in its side.

“I am sure it is beautiful, vhenan,” he spoke, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She made quite a sight up there, hanging effortlessly from a sheer cliff in a way that made it look easy with the wind tosseling her hair about and the sun shining on her skin to give it a yellow glow.

“Oh  _come_  on, it’s amazing! You can see the sun rising over the valley and everything.”

“I’m afraid I will have to take your word for it,” he called up to her. “I am not much of a climber.” Especially when compared to Lavellan who had the skills of a mountain goat when it came to scaling cliffs. He was glad he had found her though. He had awoken just before dawn only to find the Inquisitor away from the campsite. While it was not unusual for the rogue to wander off on her own from time to time, it was late in the night (or early depending on your perspective) and she left without a word to anyone (namely himself). Needless to say, Solas had become quite concerned. While the Hinterlands were not the most unforgiving of environments they encountered, it was still quite dangerous with its many bears and bandits lurking about. She was a capable warrior, yes, but he worried nonetheless. So he had gone looking for her himself, the party back at camp awaiting their arrival.

It hadn’t taken long to find her. Although, Solas admits that it was more  _she_ who found  _him_. He had simply been wandering at the base of the cliffs when her voice, loud as it was, called out to him, and he looked to the sky only to see the small figure perched up and hanging from the cliff side. And so here they were.

“This is not to say that I’m not confident in your abilities, vhenan, but I think it is time to head back to camp. Come down and we shall head back together.”

She hesitated as if debating whether or not to say the next words before letting out a self-depracating laugh. “Aha, so funny story, really,” she spoke, a sheepish grin forming on her face that was not nearly as reassuring as she thought it was. “Uh – well, you see.. I’m kind of.. stuck.”

Solas blinked. “What.” Of the thousands of things he thought she would say,  _that_ … was certainly not one of them.

Apparently she took his “what” as meaning that he could not hear her, so she said it again, voice twice as loud. “Stuck! See?!” She gave her hands a hard tug from the crevice where they were currently seeking purchase in the stone.

It was just as she said, her hands didn’t budge an inch and Solas wasn’t even going to ask  _how_ this even happened. Honestly, he didn’t know why he found anything Taryn Lavellan did surprising by this point. The woman truly was capable of anything from taking down a High Dragon to getting her hand jammed under a rock. It was baffling. It was ridiculous. It was.. endearing, really.

He sighed, attempting to hide a fond smile. “In that case, I will go fetch Iron Bull and Sera.” He turned back to the path through the forest in which he had came. “I will be back soon. Just,” he smirked. “Just stay put.”

“Uh.. Okay,” she called back uncertainly. “I’ll just be here – uh.. hanging out.” His laugh echoed through the forest in response and Taryn was left there to muse on how well the sound suited him as she watched his form disappear through the trees. 


	2. Ma Sahlin Vir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title roughly translates to "My Current Path"

 “Solas? You there?” Taryn stood outside of Solas' tent, rocking on the balls of her feet. It was quiet but after a few moments Solas' voice drifted out to her.

“You may enter.”

Lifting up the tent flap, Lavellan poked her head inside and was instantly greeted by warmth. It was not as if the Emerald Graves was cold necessarily, but night was fast approaching and the temperature dropped pretty quickly and unexpectedly. Inside Solas' tent though, it was quite cozy with the light of a few candles lighting the space up.

“Era seranna ma, I'm sorry for disturbing you,” she said as she moved fully inside, closing the tent flap behind her. “But I'm glad you're here.”

“What is it you need, emma lath?”

“Everyone is outside celebrating today's victory against the Freemen of the Dales. Bull is even out there doing what he calls a 'keg stand'. He's making quite a sight,” she laughed, her eyes lighting up in excitement. “You should come join us.”

The elf looked up at her, a surprised expression passing across his face before it was carefully hidden. And Lavellan had to give it to him, he at least had the decency to look like he was actually _considering_ in joining them, but sure enough – “I would love to, but..” He began.

Taryn raised a hand, stopping his words. “Say no more,” she said with a small smile, she didn't want to pressure the man or make him feel the need to make excuses if he were uncomfortable. “I thought I'd ask anyways.” And he actually did look guilty at that, which was not her intention at all when she came in. She sat down next to him and met his eyes. “I'm not going to force it, Solas, but they and I are more than just your companions, vhenan. They're your _friends_. And I'm.. “ She paused, not really sure what she was planning to say next. Instead, she patted the hand that he had rested upon a tome. Solas studied the woman before him, Taryn was normally so light and spritely that it almost always caught him off guard when she looked at him with such a serious face. “I know how much you value your privacy, Solas, but you don't have to isolate yourself to keep that.” She fixed him with a look, golden eyes piercing, knowing. And in that moment, Solas felt exposed, as if she could see through him, as if she _knew_. The moment was soon gone, however, and Solas watched as she pulled away, trying to squash the feeling of loss as her hand withdrew from his own.

“If you change your mind, we're going to have a bonfire by the lake, tonight. This time, it _will_ be me who drinks Iron Bull under the table.” The elf laughed, looking at the Inquisitor who stood up at her total of five feet and was truly expecting to best a qunari in a drinking game.

“Do be careful, Lavellan,” he spoke, a fond smile making its way upon his lips.

She waved him off. “Oh please, I'm always careful,” she assured as she spun on her heel to head out only to smack her forehead against one of the tent poles holding up the front of his tent. “Shit,” she swore and Solas was smart enough to not comment on that little spectacle as he watched her head back out to the camp where Fairbanks' men were rolling in the alcohol.

The mage went back to his tome and ignored the feeling of yearning as the sounds of merriment drifted over to him.

 

\- - -

 

Not much time had passed, he knew. But suddenly, the air was different, Solas could feel it. His head snapped up from his reading and he swore. _She's here_ , he thought and set the book aside as he left the tent.

The night was dark, save for the light of the fire towards the lake. He spared a glance at the gathering of revelers to make sure that he was not spotted as he slunk into the shadows of the night. He moved through the trees, darkness clouding over him like an old friend. The moon was high in the sky, alighting the natural paths in the forest, but he followed none of them. Instead, he followed her call – her whispers – until the sound grew deafeningly loud in his eardrums. He was not far from the celebrations what with the light of the fire reaching the the base of the tree lines where he hid, but the festivities never seemed further away than it did in that moment.

“Hello, old friend,” Flemeth walked out from behind a tree and slunk towards him.

“Why are you here?” He growled. Mythal wasn't one to show her face often and he quickly grew wary of her presence.

The woman laughed, a sound that sent chills up along his spine and put him on edge. “Fixing your mess, apparently.”

“It is under control.”

“Ah yes,” she spoke whimsically. “The breach in the sky clearly attests to that.”

“I will say this once, and only once, Flemeth. Leave now and do not approach me again.” She could seek him out in the Fade if she so chose, but not here. Not when his _everything_ was a mere few feet away.

Flemeth's expression quickly became more solemn. “Fen'harel, what are you doing?” She whispered, fixing him with a look akin to pity. A look that he did not wish to see – not from her. “You do not belong here, with these people.” He knew that all too well, was aware of that fact every day and even moreso when he looked at Lavellan, feeling the need to tell her the truth, share everything and yet knowing he could never take that step. “Come with me, old friend. We can fix this, you and I, and restore the People to what they once were _together_.”

Solas gazed up at her as she reached out to him, pain written across his features. Her hand cradled his cheek and he unconsciously leaned into the touch, so familiar and yet so foreign in this form. He was tempted to go with her. She could help him regain his power, together they could undo his mistakes – every last one. It would be so easy. Too easy. But he has already chosen his path.

The elf pulled away from her, and glanced towards the group over by the lake. The bonfire reflected off the surface of the lake, casting the area in bright light. Music played and alcohol was being passed around between the men and women. The Iron Bull was charging at Lavellan, head first, and the Inquisitor held him back by the horns, shrieking with laughter.

“It seems you have already made your choice,” Flemeth commented, drawing his attention away from the festivities.

“I have,” he agreed. “And I intend to see it through to the end.”

“Then you should go back to your People.” They both knew she didn't mean the Elvhen, and that stung. _Everything_ that Solas had done, he had done for the People. And here she was, accusing him of leaving them behind. Before he could say as much, the witch disappeared in a cloud of smoke and Solas was left alone once more.

He sighed, and closed his eyes. He would see this through to the end. _He would._ Repeating that mantra to himself, the elf left the shadows of the trees behind and headed towards the light of the fire. The sounds of merriment grew louder as he drew close and he spotted Taryn atop one of Bull's shoulders, Sera on his other, each using one of his horns to keep balance. Solas was amazed the qunari put up with so much and it surely spoke of how much he cared for the plucky women using him as a stepping stool, as he couldn't imagine that his kind much enjoyed others touching their horns.

Taryn raised her tankard with one hand, and let out a war cry. “Horns up!” She bellowed and a cheer rose among the crowd as they too raised their own drinks. Encouraged, the rogue took a large swig of her beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand when she was done only for another round of shouts and cheers to accompany the action.

His eyes met hers and he could hear his heart begin to beat like a drum as her entire face lit up at the sight of him. Within moments, she was jumping off of Bull's shoulder and bounding towards him.

“Hey!” The Bull protested. “I'm not a springboard, you know.”

Taryn ignored the qunari and stood by Solas. “You're here,” she spoke, relief tinting her voice.

“And you're drunk,” he dutifully pointed out.

“Don't be fooled, Lady Herald,” Sera clumsily rolled off of Iron Bull's shoulders, far more inebriated than Lavellan was. “He's just here for your approval so he can remove your breeches and get to the banging bits later.”

Solas sighed. “Tactfully put, Sera.”

“That's not a denial,” Bull pitched in as he too bounded over, another tankard in hand. “Here, elf. I want to see how well you hold your alcohol.”

“Ah, no tha – “

“It's not a request,” Bull said sternly, forcing the alcohol into his hands. “You, too, will be getting drunk tonight. It's practically a Rite of Passage.”

Solas looked to the Inquisitor, hoping for a bit of back up but she just smiled cheekily and said, “Drink up, Solas!”

Sera wrapped her arm around the mage's shoulders in encouragement (and likely also to prevent him from leaving). “Come on, you tit!”

“I suppose I have no choice in the matter,” he sighed as he lifted up the tankard and downed its contents. He made a face as it burned down his throat. Creators, that was strong. When he was done, a loud cheer rose up from the crowd, and even Sera looked impressed before scrambling atop of Bull's shoulder once more, grabbing more ale from the qunari as she did so.

“Let's get shit-faced!” the qunari yelled and a chorus of enthusiastic drunkards responded in kind.

“For the Inquisition and Her Gracious Ladybits!” Sera declared, and the music from the bards began to play once more as they sang a song dedicated to their very own elven archer.

Solas' attention was drawn from the scene before him as the Inquisitor pressed against his side. She leaned up onto her toes to press a kiss on his cheek, too drunk to care who saw. “I'm glad you're here,” she whispered, quiet enough so that only he could hear.

He looked into her golden eyes, so full of love, the literal light in his life before him. “As am I.”


	3. Var Adahlen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lavellan encounters her biggest challenge yet — sitting still for more than an hour. Good thing Solas is here to help. She thinks.

 She fidgeted slightly under his gaze, studying her so intently. Shifting on the wooden stool she sat upon, Lavellan gazed at the man gazing back at her, tapping her fingers restlessly against the hard wood of the stool.

Solas sighed, setting his brush down. “Vhenan, the more you move, the longer this is going to take,” he scolded.

Taryn groaned. “Not that I don't love your art, Solas, but why did you insist on painting me anyways?”

“All great heroes have portraits painted of them, do they not?” He fixed her with a look, and the huntress felt a small blush creep up her cheeks at the praise which she attempted to cover with a cough.

She shrugged with a false-casuality. “S'pose you're right,” she mumbled, swinging her legs in front of her before lifting her head to smile at Solas. “Well, better you than the stuffy Orlesian painter Josephine would surely hire in your stead.”

“Precisely,” the mage agreed with a chuckle. “Now, hold still,” he ordered as he lifted his brush and resumed painting. Taryn made a face and stuck her tongue out at him which Solas wisely chose to pretend he didn't see.

The Inquisitor couldn't see how the painting he was working on was coming out to be from where she sat, but she found herself getting lost in the way Solas moved about the large canvas, right hand moving with skill and precision much in the way he maneuvered his staff on the battlefield. She was entranced with the surprising grace with which he moved about and she began to wonder where he learned to paint like that. She'd ask him herself, but figured the answer would be the same as many of the answers to questions involving Solas were. _The Fade._

Taryn made a face at that and the mage's eyes snapped up to hers in warning. Lavellan was not one to stand still for long periods of time, surely the man must recognize that.

“You know,” she said after a lapse of silence. “When you asked to paint me, I was expecting something much more.. romantic.”

“How so?” Solas indulged, eyes flicking to her momentarily before going back to the canvas.

“Well, for starters, I thought we'd be in your quarters, not the rotunda.” Somewhere much more private. “Also, I thought I'd be naked,” she said with a sly grin, and watched as Solas' eyes remained diligently trained to the canvas suddenly instead of her and the tips of his pointed ears grew a shade of red that matched the red coloring his cheeks. “Oh, relax,” she waved off the mage. “I'm not about to strip down to my underclothes right this moment. Dorian's right above us.” And she had no doubt the Tevinter could hear every word being exchanged.

“Right, well,” he spoke, voice more hoarse than usual as his eyes flicked upwards to her once more. “Painting is hardly a romantic affair.” However, the heated gaze he fixed her with clearly said otherwise.

“Mhm,” she hummed, sounding unconvinced. “Only because you're not thinking creatively enough.”

“Me?” Solas laughed at the irony. “The one currently holding the paint brush is not thinking creatively?”

“Yes,” she stated matter-of-factly.

The elf opened his mouth to retort, but seemed to think better of it as he sighed instead. “You realize, vhenan, that the more you attempt to distract me, the longer you and I will be here. And there is still much to do.”

Lavellan groaned. “Ugh, this is killing me, Solas.”

“I think you'll survive.”

“Can't I just see what you have done so far?” She asked, tilting to the side curiously, locks of her black hair flicking over her brow as she did so.

“No,” Solas replied sternly. “It is not ready.”

Taryn ignored him, hopping off of the stool and grimacing at the feeling of pins and needles in her legs from sitting for such a long period of time. “I don't care about that. I just want to see what you have so far.”

Solas moved to try and stop her. “Not until I am finished,” he spoke, shifting the the easel to the side as she came around to prevent her view.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” she pressed, “there's no harm in me seeing it, no?” But Solas stood firm before her, arms crossed across his chest, having none of it. He would not budge on this issue, and she paused, the painting standing between them. “You know,” she began, a sly grin that Solas had learned to mean nothing but trouble. “The more you wish to hold it from me, the more I want to know.” Solas startled as the rogue disappeared in a cloud of smoke and soon, he could not spot her at all as the shadows concealed her presence from him.

“ _Fenedhis_ ,” he swore under his breath as he looked around for her to no avail. An echo of a laugh came out in a reply, but he could not pinpoint from where it came as it resonated from everywhere at once. In the next moment, Taryn appeared behind him, her breath tickling the back of his neck.

“Got you,” she whispered, and Solas spun on his heel to meet her golden eyes, filled with excitement as she stood up on her toes to peak over his shoulder. What she saw though made her stop in her tracks. She blinked, stunned. “ _Solas, you little shit._ ”

Solas turned facing her, having the decency to look a little guilty, but the amusement was clear in his eyes. “I did say it was a work in progress, did I not?” Which earned him a hard punch on the shoulder.

“Work in progress my arse,” she muttered, for on the canvas was not a portrait nor the makings of a portrait. In its stead was the green scenery of a forest which greatly resembled the Emerald Graves what with a Giant slinking through the trees. “You weren't even painting me this whole time!” Lavellan threw her arms in the air, and with that Solas' carefully concealed resolve dissolved and he let out a low chuckle.

“I was curious to see how long I could get you to sit still,” he admitted, attempting and failing to keep his smile at bay much to Taryn's annoyance. “Evidently, not long.”

His amusement only seemed to get her more fired up and she looked as if she were about to argue, one finger pointed at him as if ready to scold him before she sighed and let her arm drop. “Fair point,” she conceded. If she were honest with herself, she should have seen this coming. After all, Solas knew more than anyone how impossible it was to keep Taryn still for more than a few moments, let alone several hours. Painting her would be an undertaking more challenging than sealing the Breach itself.

“If it helps,” Solas spoke up from beside her, the corner of his lips twitching upwards in amusement, “you made for excellent company through the whole process.”

Taryn let out a laugh, smiling back at the elf before her eyes flitted towards the painting. “Well,” she spoke, “I suppose it _is_ a really nice painting.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at 5 AM because I couldn't sleep. But hey, here's some fluff.   
> Want to read more or send me a prompt? Follow me on tumblr or drop an ask in my askbox! a-j-aria.tumblr.com


	4. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never in his many years had Solas been so glad to be so incredibly wrong about someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Askbox prompt for an anon who asked for Solavellan and "A Gift"   
> Takes place pre-relationship, fairly early on in the events of DA:I

 “It was an honest mistake,” Lavellan defended, crossing her arms against her chest.

“Falling through a scaffolding into a rogue templar compound is an honest mistake?” Cassandra rebuffed, raising an inquisitive brow.

“I hate to say it but I'm with the Seeker on this one. Isn't stealth and subtlety supposed to be your thing, Misty?” Varric pitched in, using the familiar nickname he had given Lavellan since she first disappeared into the shadows during battle.

“It is!” She yelled back, subtlety be damned. Solas was taking up the rear of their small rag-tag group and silently observing the interaction, namely that of one Taryn Lavellan, or the Herald of Andraste, as many have taken to calling her recently. He couldn't help but find the woman a complete contradiction in and of herself. She was a rogue, silent and deadly, and yet as they had witnessed just moments earlier could do something as foolish as fall into the center of a rogue templar base. She was a Dalish elf and yet was currently known all across Thedas as the Herald of Andraste. Yes, the elf was quite the contradiction indeed. And Solas couldn't help but wonder what that meant for them all.

“Look a clearing!” Lavellan called, abruptly changing the subject. “Shall we set up camp here for the night?” Before anyone could answer, she had already set her pack down onto the grass, unraveling her tarp and setting the spokes into the ground for her tent. Varric and Cassandra shared an equally amused and exasperated look before they, too, set their own packs down.

Lavellan was the first one finished which was to be expected. Solas figured what with the Dalish and their nomadic lifestyle, the elf was quite used to setting up temporary shelters, even moreso since she was a hunter, he supposed. What a simple life she must have led prior to this mess. He pitied her, really. That such a simple woman was given such a heavy burden. That she bore all of their fates and all thanks to his mistakes, no less.

He wondered if she could really do it – fix his mess – and he felt a creep of doubt at the thought. Lavellan was a naïve girl, no doubt a result from living amongst the Dalish and away from society for most of her life. She was also absent-minded and easily distracted, without a care in the world and seemingly unobservant or unaware to the goings-on around her. It was troubling, really, that such a person held the fate of all of Thedas.

From across camp, the Herald's eyes met his own and a small smile came upon her face. Solas hadn't realized he had been staring at her as intently as he was and he shifted his eyes away uncomfortably, a feeling of guilt and embarrassment pooling in his gut. He realized that he was thinking poorly of the woman, and she did not deserve criticism, least of all from him.

He felt another pang of guilt, although for another reason entirely and Solas busied himself with setting up his tent in order to distract himself from the dark turn his thoughts had quickly taken. By the time he was finished, the sun had near set and the three other companions were huddled near the fire that Lavellan had lit herself. The mage had offered to cast a small spell to light it instead to make the job easier but the rogue had waved off his offer saying “Don't worry about it, I've got plenty of experience with starting fires,” with a manic look in her eyes that only promised chaos. He chuckled slightly as he thought about that little exchange and realized that he was staring at Lavellan. Again.

As if sensing his gaze, Lavellan's eyes met his once more and she stood up from her crouch near the fire as she made her way over to his tent.

“Solas,” she greeted warmly, a bright smile on her face. “Cassandra is brewing us all some tea by the fire. Would you want some?” She asked, tilting her head curiously.

The mage attempted to keep his face as neutral as possible as he answered, not wanting to refuse the Herald who was clearly trying to be kind to him. “I would be most grateful,” he replied politely and for some reason, that caused Lavellan to laugh. Solas frowned, unsure what he said wrong.

“I thought you would say something like that,” she said, arms crossed against her chest as she leaned her weight against the bark of an elder tree beside the elf's tent. “Which is why,” she trailed off, digging through her vest pocket for something. “I got you this!” She held out a small black pouch that gave off an odd aroma the likes of which Solas cannot recall ever encountering.

“What is that?” He asked curiously.

“Beans!” She said proudly, a grin on her face before her nose scrunched up. “Well, not _beans_ beans. Ground beans. You know what I mean.” No, he truly did not. And Lavellan seemed to see his confusion as she continued to ramble nervously, suddenly unsure about the little pouch she held in her grasp. “They're coffee beans. Like tea, but not tea. No leaves, just beans. Good beans, trust me. I got them from Josephine, they're from Antiva and …”

“And this is for …?” Solas interrupted, feeling that if he did not do so, then Lavellan would continue to ramble on.

“For you,” she said simply as she pushed the pouch into his grasp, her hands brushing against his own as she pushed his fingers closed around the small gift. “It's – I know you don't like tea, so I thought … “ she trailed off, jerking her hands away as she realized they were still cupped around his own.

Solas blinked at the elf in surprise. “How did you know I don't like tea?”

And Lavellan just looked at him, eyes big and knowing, as if she could see right through him. It sent a shiver up his back and put him on edge in a way very few have done in ages. Solas was suddenly wary of this woman, wary.. and intrigued. The moment was gone within seconds however as the rogue grinned up at him, smile wide and infectious that Solas felt his own lips twitch upwards a smidge. “So I was right?” She chanced a guess and began to shift on her feet uncomfortably. “If you don't like it, you don't have to drink any. I don't want you to force yourself to… “

Solas instinctively clutched the gift closer to himself at her words. “Nonsense,” he interrupted, smiling softly in reassurance. “I would love to try some, if you would like to come join me?” He offered. It was the least he could do, considering the thoughtful gift she had given him.

Lavellan's eyes lit up and Solas tried in vain to tamper down the feeling of content that he had when she grabbed him by the hand and began to chat excitedly about everything and nothing as they walked towards the fire, his other hand clutched tightly around her gift. 

 


	5. Are you drunk?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from tumblr for the anon who asked for solavellan/"Are you drunk?"

Solas was a light sleeper. Which was ironic considering the various occasions he lost himself to sleep in order to wander the Fade. But perhaps that was exactly _why_ he was a light sleeper. After all, one is quick to awaken to the smallest of sounds when they had last laid their head to rest in an abandoned ruin filled with Creators-knows-what kinds of creatures. 

Despite all of that, however, he was caught completely unawares as someone snuck into his quarters. That is, until he felt the bed dip under the weight of the intruder. The mage jolted awake at the movement, magic at his fingertips and ready to defend himself. Later, when he was more awake, he would figure that situations like these tended to happen often when your lover was a rogue, though, and he should damn well get used to it.

“Whoa, Sparky,” Taryn raised her hands up in defense as Solas' electricity lit up the room. The familiar voice washed over him like a soothing balm, and the mage felt his shoulders drop as he forced himself to relax as the Inquisitor tried to calm him down. His magic began to recede as he grew more aware of his surroundings, and was immediately filled with guilt as he realized he had nearly attacked the woman before him without realizing. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” she mumbled, rubbing at the back of her neck awkwardly, retracting her knee from the bed and turning towards the door.

Solas quickly reached out and grabbed her wrist to prevent her from leaving. “Vhenan, I am sorry. I did not mean – are you hurt at all?” He asked, sitting up on the mattress. His heart was racing from the panic at being awoken so suddenly and then the sudden very real possibility that he used magic on his loer.

“Pfft,” Lavellan snickered, waving off his concern. “As if you could ever hurt me,” she waved it off and Solas had to swallow around the lump that formed in his throat at her words. “It's odd seeing you in your night clothes,” she said with a tilt of her head as she studied him, abruptly changing the subject – perhaps to change the subject to a lighter topic or simply because this was Taryn Lavellan and she was always flitting about. She scratched at her head as she studied him, watching him with wide eyes cast aglow in the moonlight. If Solas were a weaker man, he would likely fidget under the gaze. “Your day clothes sort of look like night clothes so I just assumed that you slept in them anywa – ”

“Taryn,” the mage interrupted, eyes narrowing as he saw the way in which her eyes were glazed and the red coloring on her nose. “Are you drunk?”

“I – “ Lavellan paused, as if thinking hard on her words before finally speaking. “Yes.” She declared with a single, punctuated nod causing the elf to chuckle.

“Then, shall I walk you to your room?”

She shook her head and drooped forward as she leaned her weight onto his bed frame. “Too many stairs,” she mumbled as she began to climb over him like a cat and make herself comfortable at his side. “Can't I just sleep here tonight?” She whispered, and Solas supposed that he was in no position to disagree as she was already making herself comfortable, lifting the sheets he was under and tucking herself in as if she belonged there.

He smiled as he looked down on her, cast in the light of the moon, so utterly at peace in that moment that Solas too began to feel himself drift once more. He sank onto the cot, one arm going around Taryn's back as he leaned his head in close and whispered. “Ven'era, vhenan.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys want me to write something at all, never be afraid to send me a prompt on my tumblr: a-j-aria.tumblr.com or on here! I would gladly oblige!


End file.
